


No Longer Alone

by 1VulgarWoman



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alpha Bulma, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Play, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mild Angst, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Omega Vegeta - Freeform, Vegebul, dominant Bulma, submissive Vegeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1VulgarWoman/pseuds/1VulgarWoman
Summary: There’s a distracting scent in the air. Something warm and inviting, but also commanding. A scent that refuses to be ignored. Vegeta grunts as he takes a sharp jab to the temple. He is dazed by more than just the hit. The scent has worked its way beneath his skin, demanding his attention, draining him of the will to fight, to resist. Alpha.He shakes his head, trying to clear it. He must be imagining things.That’s when he sees her.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 127
Kudos: 395





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I haven't seen any Vegebul A/B/O stories before, and it's a trope I feel whose time in this fandom has come. (If there are any out there that I haven't seen, please lmk!) I've seen certain aspects of it done before with Saiyans, like scenting and mating bites, so hopefully you guys will enjoy. I tried to write this in such a way that those unfamiliar with the trope can catch on without having to research, but feel free to do some Googling if you wish. Just be aware that this trope can get pretty extreme, and mine will be a somewhat watered down version. Lots of pining and smut ahead! Thanks for checking it out. ;)
> 
> I'd like to thank PearlsValeMel for taking a look at this crazy story and encouraging me to continue. You're the best!

There’s a distracting scent in the air. Something warm and inviting, but also commanding. A scent that refuses to be ignored.

Vegeta grunts as he takes a sharp jab to the temple. He is dazed by more than just the hit. The scent has worked its way beneath his skin, demanding his attention, draining him of the will to fight, to resist. 

_Alpha._

He shakes his head, trying to clear it. He must be imagining things. 

Just to be sure, he ducks low and plows into the alpha circling him in the ring, throwing the larger man to the canvas floor. Bracing himself, he takes a deep breath. Nothing. He can barely smell the other man’s sweat, let alone pheromones. His blockers are doing their job. 

When he’s back on his feet, it wafts over him again, the sweet promise of safety and comfort he’s been resisting his whole life. His eyes search without permission, looking for the source. 

That’s when he sees her. His world narrows to a seat in the VIP section where she holds court. He doesn’t know how he knows the scent is hers, but he’s absolutely certain. 

She’s stunning. Her coloring is bright and eye-catching, typical of an alpha. Peacock plumage to attract a mate. Her skin is fair and creamy, not like the strange, orangey red of the alpha he’s fighting. Pretty. Delicate, even. But her scent promises security, power. So does her expression as she meets his gaze head-on, without shying away. The pretty alpha’s brows quirk as she sniffs the air a little, discreetly. 

She scents him too. She must. He doesn’t like how much the idea excites him. 

Vegeta’s stomach knots as the man seated beside the alpha drapes his arm around her shoulders. The spell breaks, and he realizes, too late, that he’s let his guard down. In the fraction of a second it has taken him to process all this, his opponent gained the upper hand. The air rushes out of his lungs, and everything goes dark. 

~~~

Vegeta kicks at the gravel in frustration as he storms out the back entrance, pockets empty. 

He has always hated losing, but he needed to win tonight. His supply of suppressants is dangerously low. He has maybe a week’s worth if he cuts his dose in half, but the thought of what might happen if it came to that makes him want to kill something. There are less expensive alternatives, strong enough to, hopefully, stave off a heat, though not strong enough to mask his pheromones.

For the millionth time in the never-ending battle that is his life, Vegeta curses his biology. He will have to go to Frieza again if he can’t land another fight in the next few days. He hates the underhanded things the deranged beta makes him do, but he has few other options. Without medication to keep his designation a secret, he is as good as dead. 

He hears the door open and close behind him. At first, he ignores it, but then he scents it again. Scents her. It’s even more potent this time, closer. Less diluted by the scents of dozens of sweaty bodies. 

“You’re an omega.”

If her scent hadn’t already stopped him in his tracks, her voice would have. It’s feminine, yet commanding. He keeps his eyes focused ahead, afraid that if he turns to look at her, he’ll melt. 

“It’s none of your damn business,” he forces himself to reply. The words feel like ashes in his mouth. 

“Wait.” 

He pauses in front of his shabby vehicle, one hand poised above the handle. 

The gravel crunches beneath her heels as she comes closer, until he can see her in his peripherals. Without turning his head, he gives her a quick once-over, assessing. She’s petit for an alpha. He’d guess that, without her four-inch heels, they’d be equal in height. 

She’s looking him over too. He feels her gaze like a caress. It’s unnerving. He’s torn between relief and regret when her eyes move away. 

“Is this where you live?” She gestures to his car. She’s phrased it like a question, but it isn’t really. “You must be on some pretty pricey suppressants if they let you fight alphas.” 

She takes a step closer, leans against the side of the car. Confident. 

“Let me guess: you register as a beta.”

He looks at her then, resists the urge to touch. 

“Why do you care?”

The alpha shrugs. “Call it a professional interest.”

Vegeta quirks an eyebrow at her. What does this strange alpha female want from him? 

“I’m a scientist, you see,” she explains. “I’m working on a new line of suppressants and scent blockers that can be produced less expensively.”

She steps closer then, into his personal space. Inhales deeply. 

“Did you miss your dose today?”

“What?” Vegeta shakes his head to clear it. Her presence has him feeling strangely docile, submissive. He doesn’t hate it as much as he should. “No.”

“Hmm.” She steps back, studies him. “Strange. I scented you from across the arena. You smell like…”

She leans close again. Closer. Vegeta feels her breath ghost over the scent gland hidden in the side of his neck. 

“...like pure sex.” 

The way her lips wrap around the last word make his cock twitch in his shorts. The alpha must have detected the change in his scent. Her eyes darken hungrily, but she remains cool and controlled. 

“It’s a good thing I’ve been taking the excellent drugs I make. Otherwise, one whiff of you would send me flying straight into a hard rut.” 

Vegeta’s cheeks go hot. “You alphas are so vulgar,” he sneers under his breath. 

She laughs, unbothered. 

“But you like me. I can tell.” She cocks her hip, winks. 

Vegeta can only gape at her. This earns him another laugh, a smile. He wants to feel indignant but can’t quite muster the emotion. Some ancient, primal part of him he thought long buried beneath layer after layer of pharmaceuticals preens at this alpha’s approval. He enjoys being the cause of her smile, even at his own expense. The curse of his omega biology. 

“I can give you what you need,” she almost purrs. 

Vegeta’s heart pounds against his rib cage as her manicured fingers dip beneath the low neckline of her blouse. They emerge with a crisp, white business card balanced between them, which she holds out to him. He takes it, turns it over in his dirty fingers. It’s still warm from being pressed against her skin. 

“I need an omega to test a new formulation I’m working on,” she announces, assuming a more businesslike stance, arms crossed over her chest. “You’ll have a free place to live, plus food and medication for as long as you participate. Once my product is on the market, you’ll have a lifetime supply.”

Vegeta’s head is spinning. This is too good to be true. It has to be. 

Without the high cost of suppressants, he would be able to afford a home other than his car. He could tell Frieza to get fucked. Maybe even get out of this shithole of a city for good. 

There was something else, something that ran deeper than simple opportunism. This alpha, who clearly has the world at her feet, is offering to take care of him. 

His eyes sting with what he realizes just in time are tears, which he blinks away. He has never depended on an alpha before, never allowed himself to be that vulnerable. Weak. He doesn’t plan to start now. 

She must read the resistance in his expression because she speaks before he can refuse. 

“Think about it.” There is a hint of command in her tone that’s difficult, if not impossible, to disobey. “Find me at the address on the card when you decide.”

With a wink and a self-assured grin, she steps around him, striding back the way she came. Vegeta’s eyes stay glued to the sway of her hips until she disappears behind the door. 

Locked securely inside his car, he finds himself lifting her business card to his face. Inhaling. Releasing an animalistic groan. 

Her scent is concentrated, soaked into the cardstock. It has taken over the reins of his brain, pulling his strings like a puppet master to his marionette. 

His shorts are around his knees now. He thrusts desperately into his fist before he can think to stop himself. 

This isn’t an indulgence he usually allows. It’s too risky. His medications are good, but there’s always the miniscule chance that the scent of his arousal could be detected by an unmedicated alpha (dangerous), or that he could send himself spiraling into a breakthrough heat (even more dangerous). But he can’t think about that, not now, with the scent of…

He doesn’t know her name, he realizes. Moving the card away from his nose for only a moment, he reads it. 

Dr. Bulma Briefs. 

There are several sets of letters after her name that he doesn’t know the meaning of, but he knows they denote power and authority. Everything about this alpha — about Bulma — feels like a safe haven. 

Vegeta tries to muffle his moans with the back of his hand as he cums across his chest and belly. He squeezes the base of his cock, imaging her knot constricting there, locking him inside her. More waves of pleasure and desperation roll over him, wrenching several tears from his eyes. 

Once it’s over, he pounds his fist against the steering wheel, crumpling the card in his palm. This is why alphas are dangerous, he reminds himself. But he already knows, deep down, that it won’t stop him from going to her. At this point, he has nothing left to lose but his pride, and even his hold on that is tenuous. 

That’s how he finds himself parked in front of the massive Capsule Corp. compound at first light the next morning, hoping he hasn’t made a terrible mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! I appreciate you all so very, very much. :)

The bedroom the blonde woman leaves him in is clean and spacious. It’s more square footage than he’s had to himself in...maybe ever. 

A California king bed is the room’s dominant feature, covered in a plush-looking duvet. His eyes well up as he stares at it, still in awe that all this is for him. 

Immediately, he wants to kick himself for being a sentimental idiot. The alpha — Bulma — isn’t doing this because she cares, or even out of some misguided quirk of biology. She wants something from him. It might not be the thing he most fears when it comes to alphas, but it’s something. Nothing in his world has ever been free. 

He strides to the big mahogany dresser and dumps the trash bag holding the few clean clothes he has into the top drawer. One by one, removes and folds tee-shirts, shorts, sweatpants, and underwear, placing them back inside the drawer in organized piles. It feels good to have something to do, to give his mind something to dwell on besides the alpha whose scent permeates every goddamn inch of this mansion. 

Next on his mental list is a shower. He wanders into the ensuite and steps beneath the rainwater shower head, not bothering to let the water heat up before turning it on. It doesn’t take more than a couple seconds though, and soon the air is billowing with steam. He tries to make himself relax, to enjoy it, but too many years of showering in fitness club or truck stop bathrooms keeps him on alert. 

He’s just finished pulling on a pair of shorts when there’s a knock at the door. His heart somersaults at the thought that it must be her. His... _the_ alpha. 

He absolutely refuses to be disappointed when it’s the blonde again, offering him a tray of delicious-smelling pancakes with eggs and sausage on the side. 

"Bulma’s still asleep, dear," she chirps as he takes the tray. "You just make yourself comfortable, and she’ll come and get you when she’s ready."

Vegeta grunts his thanks and closes the door. After devouring what is, doubtless, the most filling breakfast he’s had in weeks, he gives in to the temptation to peel back the satiny sheets and slip between them. He lets his body sink into the mattress with a pleasured moan. The last bed he’d been in was a shitty motel one, and that was months ago. 

Exhaustion settles into his bones. He wonders how long he has before Bulma knocks on the door. His cock gives a little interested twitch at the thought, and he plays with the idea of getting off again before he sees her. But conditioning wins over desire. His hands remain safely above the covers. 

~~~ 

His sense of smell is the first to awaken. He breathes deeply, basking in a scent so heavenly he could purr. Maybe he is. 

He reaches out blindly, searching for the source. For firm but gentle hands and sheltering arms and a warm cunt and a knot to trap him and wring him dry. 

There she is. Alpha. Warm and solid beneath his fingers. He finds her scent gland on instinct -- the one on the side of her long neck -- nuzzling his face against the source of that wonderful fragrance. His cock has never been this hard, but he feels content, sheltered, safe, as Alpha’s arms wrap around him, holding him close. 

“You didn’t come find me.” Her voice is a little pouty. He has disappointed her. 

In penance, he kisses her gland, sucking the slightly puckered skin between his lips. Her scent spikes with arousal — he can actually _taste_ it — and he knows he’s done something right. 

“I was hoping you would, find me,” she continues, threading her fingers into Vegeta’s hair. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist. Not if I smell as good to you as you do to me.” 

“She said you would come.” His response is muffled against her satiny smooth skin. “Was waiting for you.” 

“Was it hard for you,” she continues, her voice a seductive purr in his ear, “smelling my scent as soon as you walked in the door and not coming to find me?”

Vegeta groans. “Yes, Alpha.” 

“Mmm,” she sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You’re going to be such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

 _Yes_ , his insides scream. He wants to be good for her, so good. Has he ever wanted anything else? 

He nods, face still hidden against her neck, before letting his tongue slowly drag over her scent gland again. 

Mixed with Bulma’s pleased moan is another sound, one that doesn’t belong. The rattle of pills in a bottle. 

“Strange,” she muses, still stroking his hair with one hand. “If you’re taking the maximum dosage of these, you shouldn’t be this affected by me. I mean, pheromones aside, I am a hot piece of ass, but still.”

Her words bring reality crashing down around him. It still takes monumental effort to pull himself away from her warm flesh and her sweet-smelling gland, but he manages it. 

Looking at her doesn’t help his situation much. She is reclined on her side on top of the bedspread, propped up on an elbow. A white lab coat makes up the bulk of her clothing. Beneath it, she wears only a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top that skirts the line between underwear and clothing. His eyes wander over the smooth, soft curve of her belly and down the length of her legs before snapping to the pill bottle she holds in her hand. 

His suppressants. 

With a growl, he snatches the bottle from her, shutting his eyes against her irritated glare. She had been absolutely right that he shouldn’t be this affected by her. He spends everything he earns and more to ensure that no alpha will ever be able to control him, and here he is, half out of his mind with desire to please this strange woman he hardly knows. 

Vegeta pops open the cap and tosses back three pills, swallowing them dry as he scrambles out of bed. He needs to put as much distance between himself and temptation as possible. 

_“Holy shit, Omega.”_

He dares a glance in her direction and finds her eyes laser focused somewhere below his waist, pupils blown wide. With a sinking sense of dread, he looks down to find that he is in nothing but a ratty pair of boxer briefs that barely contain his erection, still rock-hard and leaking obscene amounts of slick. The threadbare material is all but transparent. 

Bulma’s demeanor shifts on a dime. Suddenly, she can’t seem to get out of his presence fast enough. 

“I’ll just, uh...let you shower and get dressed,” she calls as she practically joggs to the door. “I’ll send Mom up when I’m ready for you in the lab, Omeg...erh, Vegeta.”

She opens the door and slips through it without so much as a parting glance in his direction, for which Vegeta is thankful. This strange, but alluring, alpha has already humiliated him enough for one day. 

He showers again, feeling oddly more relaxed this time. He knows this is a direct result of the comforting blend of her pheromones and his own scent in the hot, enclosed stall. Yet another reminder of the dangerous, mind-altering effects of alphas. 

There’s a strange mix of relief and regret as the last traces of her -- of him, of _them_ \-- wash away and disappear down the drain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To those still reading this absolute filth, bless you.

The next time he sees Bulma, her scent is different. It’s deeper but less concentrated, muddled by chemicals. She’s taken more blockers. But before…?

The omega in him can’t help feeling intrigued by the change. And the possible reasons for it. 

Vegeta swallows the saliva that has begun to pool in his mouth, forcing his inner animal to recede into the back of his mind. 

She ushers him into a small exam room and nods toward the padded table against the wall. 

“Wait here,” she instructs from the open doorway. “I’ll send someone in to draw blood and do a basic physical.”

He barely has time to nod before she’s gone, shutting the door behind her. 

That’s the last he sees of Bulma for several days. He signs a mountain of consent forms before getting poked and prodded by a team of doctors and technicians. They put him through just about every kind of wellness test he can imagine, but he reminds himself it’s a small price to pay for a consistently full belly and a safe place to sleep. 

Though he doesn’t see Bulma, he is constantly aware of her presence. Her scent lingers sometimes in hallways, or in the kitchen or lab, reminding him that she’s never far. He’s always on alert, knowing he could run into her at any time. 

By the end of the week, he’s out of suppressants. When he asks one of the technicians when he’ll be given more, his heart lodges itself in his throat, and he curses himself for not reading the consent forms more closely. 

Two weeks, at least, depending on how long it takes his current medication to wear off and induce a withdrawal heat. 

“We need to run tests without suppressants in your system,” the tech - a beta, who clearly has no concept of the hell she’s subjecting him to - explains. “But don’t worry. There’s a sound and scent-proof safe room where you’ll spend your heat, and we can help you find an alpha to ride it out with, if you’d like.”

“No,” he blurts so quickly the beta’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’ll be alone.”

The tech nods, jotting something down on her tablet before leaving him to contemplate his fate in solitude. He feels lonelier than he ever has. 

~~~ 

The next morning, Vegeta receives another unpleasant surprise. 

He enters the exam room to find a plastic cup set out on the table beside a pump bottle of lotion and a stack of magazines, the top one featuring a fully nude alpha male sporting an engorged knot the size of his fist. He can’t suppress a shiver of disgust. 

“We need to get a semen sample,” the tech explains with a calm disinterest that feels at odds with Vegeta’s inner panic. “I wasn’t sure what you’re into, so there’s a variety. Just bring it out when you’re finished.”

The door closing behind the tech echoes in the quiet room like a death knell. Vegeta tries to tamp down the panic rising inside him. How is he supposed to do this with a team of people waiting outside and his literal worst nightmare starting up at him from that accursed magazine? 

He flips it over and is relieved to see an innocuous cologne ad on the back cover. The magazine underneath is an ordinary copy of Playboy, which he picks up, pushing the rest of the stack to the side. He rifles through the pages with almost frantic haste, searching for something - for anything - that sparks enough arousal to cut through the nausea that’s growing more and more urgent. 

It’s useless. He paces the room like a caged animal, tugging at the roots of his hair. 

_Get it together _, he begs himself. _Just get it over with _.____

____Steeling his resolve, he returns to the open magazine on the table, yanking his pants down just enough so he can palm his flaccid cock._ _ _ _

____He turns the pages, stopping when a blue-haired alpha female catches his eye. A little jolt of excitement shoots through him, and he tries to pretend he doesn’t know why. He manages to get half hard as he works himself with his calloused hand._ _ _ _

____But everything about this feels wrong. The blue of the alpha’s hair is a shade too dark, her hips not quite rounded enough. He growls in frustration, shoving the magazine aside._ _ _ _

____A knock on the door sends a jolt of panic shooting down his spine. He yanks his pants back up so quickly he hears threads snap._ _ _ _

____“It’s been half an hour,” the tech’s bored voice informs him through the door. “Everything going okay in there?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m fine,” Vegeta shoots back, though he is anything but._ _ _ _

____He paces the short length of the room again, scrubbing his hands over his face. He’s almost talked himself into braving the stack of magazines again when the door swings open._ _ _ _

____Bulma._ _ _ _

____He knows it’s her before he has time to turn and see her locking the door behind her. It’s that scent. That damned delicious, comforting, commanding scent that gives her away. It washes over him like a soothing wave, draining the tension from his knotted muscles._ _ _ _

____She turns, looks him over. Frowns._ _ _ _

____“I could smell your anxiety from down the hall,” she explains, taking a step closer._ _ _ _

____The relief is so sweet he could cry._ _ _ _

_____Alpha is here. Alpha will help you. ____ _ _ _

______Vegeta wishes he could clear his head of voices he doesn't want to hear, but without the aid of suppressants, he is powerless against the siren call of her scent._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Don’t worry,” she continues, and he doesn’t. “I sent everyone to lunch, so nobody knows I’m in here.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She’s closer now, close enough to touch. “I thought you might need some help, and...I know you react to my scent.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Her pupils are blown wide, black nearly overtaking blue. Desire leaks through the heavy shield of her blockers, and his cock stirs with interest._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Alpha wants you. Be good for Alpha. ____ _ _ _ _ _

________And he will, he realizes. She could ask anything of him right now, and he would do it. He would give her anything, everything. He is at her mercy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I won’t touch you, I promise,” she declares, and Vegeta bites back a pang of disappointment. “But I want you to touch yourself. Can you do that for me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He groans, nods. He’s already palming himself over his pants._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Good.” Her eyes track the movement of his hand. “That’s good.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She reaches around him and pulls the bottle of lotion to the edge of the table. No words are necessary. Her eyes give the command._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I promised I won’t touch you, and I meant it,” she explains as he pumps lotion into his right hand. “But you can touch me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He groans, shoving his lotioned hand under the waistband of his pants to grip himself. The angle is awkward, but the pressure of his fist is a much-needed relief._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He’s losing himself. Rational thought fades away as instinct takes over. He doesn’t consciously decide to reach for her neck, but he does._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His fingers curl beneath the soft hair at her nape as his thumb strokes circles over her scent gland. Soon, his mouth replaces his fingers, flooding him with her taste._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________All sense of shame banished, he uses his free hand to push his waistband down, letting his pants pool around his ankles. Bulma’s scent spikes, becoming impossibly more aroused. She’s watching him - never said she wouldn’t - and he’s glad. He wants her to look. He hopes she's pleased with what she sees._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He doesn’t know what rut smells like, but he instinctively knows she’s close. There’s a prickly warmth blossoming beneath his skin. Gods, he is going to cum _hard.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Bulma…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Shhhhh,” she soothes, turning her head so her lips brush his sweaty forehead. “It’s okay. You can cum now, Omega.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________And, with a roar, he does._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Bulma barely has time to retrieve the cup before he’s falling apart. He more than fills the cup. Some trickles out onto her hand, and he watches, instantly aroused again, as she sucks her fingers clean._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She sets the cup down, pushing it away like it burned her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I have to go, right now,” she says in a strained whisper. “If I don’t, I’m going to do something I know you don’t want.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I do...want.” His voice is rough, barely coherent. The room is starting to blur around the edges. He’s still so hard, it hurts. “Need you, Alpha. _Please. _”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I didn’t expect your heat to come so soon,” she mumbles, eyes averted as she backs away from him. “I’m sorry.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________She runs for the door. Vegeta reaches for her, stumbles. Falls._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Please,” he groans as the door closes behind her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! First off, I want to thank everyone who read and commented on the last chapter. Please forgive me for not responding to the comments this week. I'll try to get to them if I can, but this morning I had time to either update or respond to comments and I figured you guys would prefer the update. :)
> 
> Also, big shout out to PearlsValeMel for helping me make sure this chapter made sense. You're the best. <3

He doesn’t know how many days have passed when he starts to feel lucid again. 

Going through heat with an alpha is pure heaven, not that he would know. Heat without an alpha was nothing short of hell.

Vegeta uncurls himself from the fetal position he woke up in, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. What they’ve put him in is, basically, an upgraded padded cell. The walls are white and sterile, except for the door, where dingy, yellow stuffing peeks through the rips in the canvas where he’d tried to claw his way out. There’s a drawer in the wall where they slid trays of food to him every day, only to withdraw them, untouched. 

A bed takes up most of the small room -- or, cell? -- but he isn’t in it. He’s in the nest he made out of the expensive bedding and the clothes he had been wearing when they put him in here, all of which will have to be burned. They’re soaked through with slick and cum.

Everything hurts. His joints ache from writhing in agony; his throat is raw, probably from calling out for an alpha who never came. (He knows he’ll be grateful for this when his right mind has completely returned, but, now, it still stings.) 

They’d tried to make him as comfortable as they knew how, he realizes. On the nightstand sits another stack of magazines and an assortment of toys he didn’t touch. There’s also a glass and a pitcher of water, which he forces his aching body to move toward. It looks mouth-wateringly delicious, which he assumes is a good sign. His body is finally acknowledging needs besides one: alpha. The worst is behind him.

When he wakes up the next morning back in his usual bedroom, he feels like himself again. The experimental suppressants they’ve given him are good. They clear away the last of the brain fog, and a hot shower washes away the last traces of sweat and slick from his skin. 

Clean and in fresh clothes, Vegeta makes his way downstairs to the expansive kitchen, beyond famished. He hopes to find it vacant. There’s little hope that every other person in this house doesn’t know exactly how he’s spent the past three days, and he is not sure he’s ready to face anyone. 

He isn’t so lucky. The blonde woman - Bulma’s mother, he now knows - is there, hunched over the massive commercial range. 

“Come in, Vegeta,” she calls pleasantly before he can even think about leaving. “Poor dear, you must be famished.”

He starts towards the fridge, but she intercepts him, steering him toward the row of bar stools.

“You just sit down now, and let me get you something. You’ve had a rough few days, haven’t you?”

Vegeta grunts at her questions, his ears getting hot, but he sits down and lets her fuss over him. If he had to run into anyone, he is glad it was her. He can tell by her scent that she’s an omega too, albeit a mated one. She is the most likely to, at least partly, understand. 

Panchy chatters pleasantly as he eats the two sandwiches and salad she gives him, stirring the contents of a large pot boiling on the stove.   
“I’m making soup for Bulma, the poor dear,” she twitters, unprompted. 

At the mention of Bulma, his ears prick up. A weight settles in the pit of his stomach. 

“Is something...wrong with her?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to seem too interested but desperately needing the answer. 

“She hasn’t been feeling well these past few days,” Panchy explains. “Has hardly left her bed.”

Vegeta stops himself from asking the twenty-thousand questions on the tip of his tongue and swallows the rest of his lunch over a massive lump in his throat. 

~~~

The house is dark and quiet when Vegeta next ventures outside his room. He’s been fighting it all day, this anxiety that twists and roils inside him, and now, he can fight no more. He won’t be okay until he knows that she is.

No one has ever told him which room is Bulma’s. He has never seen her go in or out of this particular door, yet he knows it’s the right one. Her scent pulls him straight to it like metal to a magnet. 

Bulma calls to him through the door before he has even raised his fist to knock. 

“Come in.” 

His nerves ratchet up tenfold at the sound of her voice, weak and hoarse and so unlike her usual commanding self. He turns the knob and peeks inside the dark room, searching for and finding her small shape underneath the covers.

“Vegeta?” she says, visibly perking up a little when she sees him. “What do you...Do you need something?”

“You’re unwell.” 

It might be stating the obvious, but it’s all he can focus on. Even with fresh, new suppressants in his system, the distressed note clouding her scent bothers him. His omega hindbrain screams that if Alpha isn’t okay then nothing can be okay. 

“It’s the emergency blockers,” she explains, pushing herself into a seated position. “They make me nauseous. I’ll be fine in a couple days.”

Vegeta’s brow furrows. “Blockers did this to you?”

The room is dimly lit, but he can make out the beginnings of a blush on her fair cheeks. “I had to take extra. Like, a lot extra because, you know...Rut.”

“Rut?” he repeats, his mind going a little blank at the mention of... _that_ happening to her. 

Bulma lets out a little huff, like she’s frustrated that he’s making her explain. He feels bad, but not bad enough to stop her. 

“I couldn’t let myself go into a full-blown rut, not knowing you were here. In heat.” She looks down at her hands twisting together in her lap, her blush deepening. “I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from going to you, and you were… beyond the point of consent.”

There’s a tightening in his chest that he can’t name. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that this alpha - this woman - had known he was at her mercy and had chosen to protect him, even from herself. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it. Of her. 

“You’re a strange alpha.” 

The words pop out without much thought behind them. Vegeta sees her wince and wishes he could take them back. If only she knew his true feelings about alphas, she would see it as the compliment it was.

“I know, right.” She breaths a humorless laugh. “Some might even say a pathetic excuse for one.”

“But you’re not.”

Drawn by an invisible thread to the sight of her distress, Vegeta moves closer, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. A fresh wave of her concentrated scent wafts up over him, and he would do anything - anything - to ease her sadness in this moment.

“You’re good,” he tries to assure her, wishing he were better at expressing his feelings. “The best alpha I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you.” She gives him a small, grateful smile, warming his insides. “I’m not normally this moody, I swear. I think the blockers are making me depressed as well as nauseous.”

Vegeta nods, not sure what he should say to that. She continues before he can decide.

“It’s starting to get better though, now that you’re here.” Her brows swoop down in a delicate frown. Vegeta feels a strange urge to massage it away with his fingertips. 

“I shouldn’t be able to smell you like this, not on the new suppressants,” she rambles, twisting the blankets between her fingers. “I went over and over those calculations, making sure the dosage and formulation were exactly right. It doesn’t make sense.”

Her eyes find and hold his like magnets, some unnamable emotion transforming her pretty features. “Your scent, it’s...soothing.”

Before he can think to stop himself, Vegeta’s holding his hand out to her, palm up, the scent gland on the inside of his wrist exposed in offering. 

Bulma’s pupils flare as she reaches out, cradling his hand in both of hers. His roughened, calloused paw dwarfs hers, and he marvels at how easily this tiny, fragile female could have him at her mercy. 

“Thanks,” she breathes against his gland as she leans in, brushing her nose over the slightly puckered skin. 

A moan escapes her that he feels in his groin. He wants to make her moan like that again. He’s terrified of all the things she makes him want. 

She’s nuzzling her cheek against his palm now, and her skin is soft and downy and perfect. 

“Your scent is really beautiful, you know,” she purrs. “It’s like lying in a field of lavender.” 

His expression must be comical because she breathes a little laugh, stunning him with the sweetness of her breath. 

“I smell like...flowers?” 

She laughs fully then, scooting so close that Vegeta can make out the flecks of silver in the blue of her irises. “Sort of. It’s hard to describe. Nothing else in nature can really compare.” 

Vegeta huffs, a strained sound between a chuckle and a sigh. He looks down at his own hand, wrapped around Bulma’s on her cream-colored duvet, and wonders when exactly that had happened. 

Sitting here on her bed, her scent wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, it’s difficult to remember why he had ever feared this. Bulma is beautiful and soft and safe and none of the things that had once terrified him. 

She strokes the back of his hand with her thumb so sweetly, and Vegeta realizes he was wrong. Bulma Briefs is the most terrifying, the most dangerous alpha in the world to him, not because he can’t get away from her, but because he doesn’t want to. 

“Vegeta.” 

Her tone is different, firmer. Unmistakably alpha. His eyes snap back up to meet hers. He couldn’t have looked away again even if he’d wanted to. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

It isn’t a command. He could easily tell her no, turn away, and leave this room. This house, even. 

But he doesn’t do any of those things. 

For once in his life, Vegeta doesn’t run.

Instead, he kisses her.

Her hair is silk between his fingers, her curves soft and pliant as he pins her beneath him. He revels in her soft little sigh of surrender as she lets him take the lead. 

If his kisses and caresses are clumsy and inept, she doesn’t complain, only coaxes his lips apart with her own. Her mouth tastes like coming home, and he knows that he belongs to this woman now, body and soul. 

The realization sends a shiver of terror racing down his spine. He doesn’t want to think about the future, about the heartache and regret almost guaranteed to follow. So he kisses her harder and hopes she doesn’t feel the way he trembles in her arms.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s all so new, so heady. 

He’s never felt anything like the warm softness of Bulma’s breasts in his hands or the silken glide of her tongue against his. She feels like heaven and tastes like his wildest dreams. 

When his hand glides down the curve of her waist to the roundness of her hip, he is met with only lace and supple skin. A needy whimper escapes him as he realizes she’s almost bare beneath her oversized tee. 

He bucks against her, pleased with the knowledge that his slick has probably soaked through not only his sweatpants but the delicate scrap of her underwear as well. Can she feel it, he wonders, how hard and wet and desperate he is for her? 

Her fingers slip beneath the collar of his tee-shirt, seeking with deadly accuracy the place he takes the greatest pains to hide, the place that even he himself tries to avoid thinking about: his mating gland. 

Vegeta freezes, his entire body going rigid as her touch sends a pulse of pleasure shooting straight to his cock. He hears a barely recognizable voice whimpering desperate pleas for _bite_ and _knot_ and _alpha_. 

“Sshhh…” Bulma soothes him with gentle caresses and a quick kiss. “It’s alright, Omega. I’ve got you.”

He sighs against the curve of her neck and lets her roll him onto his back. She’s so beautiful hovering over him, even with her hair matted and wild from her days in bed. 

He expects her to kiss him again, but instead, she reclines propped up on an elbow, looking him over like she’s trying to memorize his features. Her eyes land on the dampened front of his sweatpants, and her fingers soon follow, stroking the straining outline of his cock. The groan he releases is barely human.

“There’s something I should tell you,” she says, just this side of a whisper, “but I’m not sure you’ll still want this after I do.”

Impossible, he thinks. The idea that he could ever not want her is laughable. 

He lets out a little hough, and her cheeks pinken. She’s serious, he realizes. 

“What is it?” he queries, wishing he knew how to communicate to her that, whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. 

“I’ve never…” She looks down, watching her hand stroke idly over him. “I’ve never been with an omega before.”

Vegeta isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. She has always seemed so confident, so...so _alpha._

Bulma must have detected his surprise. “I’ve actually only ever been with one guy, and he was a beta,” she went on with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So I’ve never...knotted anyone.”

He’s never seen this side of her before. The side that isn’t always in charge, cocky and self-assured. Alphas aren’t supposed to show weakness. 

But this isn’t that, he thinks. She’s the strongest person he’s ever known. 

Alphas are supposed to be conquerors, knotting as many omegas as possible from the moment they present until they take a mate. Until now, he would have assumed he was one in a long line of omegas to plead for her knot. If even he couldn’t resist her, what omega possibly could?

“Why?” he asks, more brusquely than intended. He backpedals. “I mean, you’re the only alpha I’ve ever wanted to...you know.” A blush spreads across his face and over his neck. “I would have thought it would be easy for you.”

Bulma leans down and kisses him gently. When she pulls away, her smile is genuine. 

“Thank you,” she says. Her fingers pluck at the ties holding his sweatpants closed, loosening the knot there. Vegeta groans. 

“I want you to tell me first, though,” she continues, “why is it that you hate alphas so much? Did someone hurt you?”

Vegeta tenses as she says the one thing that could possibly distract him from his aching need for her, freezing for a moment before knocking her hand away. He sits up, swinging his legs to dangle over the edge of the bed. 

“Don’t go!” she commands, and he doesn’t. He doesn’t turn around again either. “I’m sorry.”

“No one hurt me,” he insists, shrugging off her comforting touch on his shoulder. “No one.”

“But nobody protected you either.” Her voice is softer, so close he can feel her breath on the back of his neck. “You’ve had to do that yourself.”

“I’ve never needed anyone to protect me.”

“I know you don’t need protection.” This time, when she reaches out to touch him, he allows it. Her fingers trace along his shoulder and curl around his bicep. 

“You’re strong,” she continues, “but I think you deserve to feel safe, to be taken care of. And I think you’ve been through a lot more than you let anyone see.”

The room falls silent while her words hang like a mist in the air. 

She hooks her fingers in the collar on his shirt, tugging it aside enough to place a soft kiss on his mating gland. Warmth and comfort flood his system like a drug. He should hate her power over him. She thinks he deserves the security and care she offers, but that can’t be true, can it? Nothing in his life before has ever shown that he deserves anything but struggle and pain and hardship.

But it’s hard to think like that now, with her soft lips caressing his gland and her slight curves pressed against his back. It’s hard to think about anything besides her at all. 

“I’d been dating my highschool boyfriend for about a year when I presented.” 

Her breath ghosts over his neck when she speaks, her words open and unguarded, baring her soul. Vegeta inclines his head slightly, not wanting to miss a thing.

“He was a beta, and my first...everything. Only, actually. We stayed together into our mid twenties. I loved him, but we just kind of grew in different directions. 

“And then, I just...never met someone where things felt ‘right’ in that way, you know? I know it isn’t very alpha of me, but I need to feel... connected to someone to want to be intimate with them in that way.”

Vegeta sighs, nodding as he takes in this information. Talking about his past isn’t something he does with anyone, ever. But she has been so open with him, even about something that much of the world would think less of her for. It will be difficult, but he wants to do the same for her. 

The butterflies that have flooded his stomach since she implied that she feels “connected” to him will make it doubly difficult. 

Vegeta draws in a deep breath and begins.

“My parents died in a car accident when I was a child, and I went into the foster system. I was fourteen when I started feeling moody and tired, and then feverish. I didn’t know what was happening until I overheard my foster father on the phone offering to sell my first heat to one of his alpha friends.”

There is a little gasp behind him, and he feels Bulma tremble against his back as the smell of alpha rage begins to seep into the air. 

“So I ran,” he continues. “Spent my first heat hiding in an abandoned barn, terrified they would find me, and...terrified of the part of myself that hoped they would.”

“What was his name? Your foster father.”

Her voice is deceptively calm, but she can’t hide from him. She smells like murder and sex, and he wants to burry his nose against the source of that scent and never draw another breath that isn’t saturated with it. 

“Omega…” she prompts, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“He died years ago,” Vegeta answers, feeling the strangest sense of regret. He had rejoiced to learn that the man who had quashed the last remnants of his childhood into dust was gone. Now, there is something ancient and primal inside him that preens at the thought of Alpha defending him. That would love nothing more than to watch her do it. 

He feels her relax a little behind him, and he turns around, reclining against the pillows. Bulma follows him down, tucking her face against the side of his neck. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispers, tucking her bare leg between his.

Vegeta grunts, too distracted by their current position to form words. He has never lain with someone like this. It should feel confining or, at best, strange, but with her, it’s nothing but pleasant. Wonderful, even. He could lie like this for hours and never tire of her warmth and her scent and the way her little fingers trace patterns over his torso. 

“Vegeta?” 

“Yes,” he responds.

“After these blockers wear off, I’d really like to fuck you, and knot you…” She pushes up on her elbow, hovering over him, her lips ghosting against the shell of his ear with each word. “And take care of you the way a sweet little omega like you deserves, if you’ll let me.”

Vegeta feels slick gush out of both holes at her heated words, hopelessly dampening the bed beneath him. He has never been soaked like this outside of heat before. It should be humiliating, but all he can think about is the way her scent spikes with possessiveness and lust and the way she’s canting her hips against him. 

“Please,” he squeaks out, head craning to find her scent gland. 

“Don't worry. I’ll take care of you,” she purrs, reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants. 

Vegeta groans, lifting his hips to help her pull his soaked pants down his thighs. She tosses them over the edge of the bed before situating herself on her knees between his legs, forcing him to open wider for her. 

He feels himself blush all the way to his hairline as she pauses to look him over. Being splayed out like this, exposed and vulnerable, in front of another person feels foreign to him, but there’s no denying the part of him that revels in it. In being at her mercy. 

“You’re perfect,” she coos as she gently wraps his length in her little fist. “My perfect little omega.”

“Fuck.” Vegeta preens at her parise. 

A line of slick dribbles from his cock down over her hand, helping her work him into a near frenzy. 

A murmured, “I need to taste you,” is the only warning he gets before her mouth is wrapped around him, applying the most incredible suction in time with the motions of her hand. 

Vegeta doesn’t know how he’s still breathing, at this point. Nothing in his repressed, regimented life has come close to preparing him for this. Alpha’s scent is an almost tangible presence in the room, ensuring his focus stays fixed on her. As if he could focus on anything else with her working those pretty pink lips over his length, taking a little more of him with each bob of her head. 

He nearly weeps with frustration when she pulls away. 

“Holy shit, Omega. You taste incredible.” 

Bulma meets his eyes for a loaded moment, and Vegeta’s breath hitches at the hunger he sees in her darkened gaze. Her pupils are so blown, only a thin circle of blue remains visible. She looks feral and beautiful and like everything he never knew he craved. And it was him she wanted: his scent and his taste and his body writhing beneath her. 

How is this real?

Her mouth slips down over him again, and Vegeta throws his head back against the pillows, losing himself to the sensation. But she surprises him again. He feels the fingers of her free hand slipping lower, lower, until she is circling his puckered opening. 

A rough groan escapes him as his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more. 

Vegeta knows even less what to expect here, having never even explored this part of his body on his own before, not even during heat when his body cried out to be filled. He is almost surprised when she is able to slip a finger inside with relatively little resistance, he’s so slick and open for her. 

After a few moments of exploration, she crooks her finger just so, finding a place inside that makes him cry out, nearly convulsing under her the pleasure is so intense.   
The pressure builds and crests quickly in his core then, hurdling beyond his control.

“Alpha, I’m going to --” His words cut off with a gasp. 

Bulma hums around his length, taking him as deep as she can, swallowing every last drop he gives her as he cums and cums inside the welcoming warmth of her mouth. 

He sighs as she gently slips her finger out of him, crawling up his body to tuck herself against his side. 

She strokes his heaving chest and shoulders as he slowly drifts back from the most intense pleasure he’s ever experienced, silently reassuring him with her touch and scent that he’s safe, that he’s cared for. That Alpha is here.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may notice that the chapter count has increased. Should be one more and an epilogue.

Vegeta finds himself smiling pleasantly at the beta tech as she finishes drawing his blood. It’s a strange feeling to him: smiling. Feeling...happy. 

Is he happy? He wonders. It’s not a feeling he’s ever been familiar with, so he can’t really be sure. But he thinks he might be. 

A warm, soothing fragrance reaches him just before _her_ voice does, and yes, he thinks. Happy might just be an apt way to describe the way Bulma makes him feel. 

She bustles into the room, going over some medical mumbo jumbo he doesn’t understand with the doctor besider her, gesturing animatedly with her hands. He’s still smiling when her eyes hone in on him like magnets, giving him a possessive once-over that, at one time, would have made him feel cornered. Now, it makes him feel content. Special. 

“Hopefully, that’s the last needle we’ll have to stick you with,” she smiles down at him as the tech tapes gauze over the puncture wound on his arm. 

“Oh?” 

Vegeta feels a brief surge of panic well up inside him at the reminder that his usefulness to her has almost run its course before he remembers that this is a good thing. It means that he and Bulma can finally be properly together. 

After the one blissful evening when she’d used her mouth on him in her bedroom, Bulma had announced that she thought they should wait to take things further until he was no longer “working” for her. Vegeta’s first instinct had been to beg, to plead with his alpha not to leave him, but he had held onto what remained of his pride and nodded silently. But the more attuned Bulma became to his scent, the more impossible it was for him to hide his feelings. She had sensed his rising panic and had quickly reassured him. 

He could be patient, he had decided, as long as his alpha needed him to. He’d already waited his entire life, after all. 

She wasn’t completely distant during the couple weeks’ wait, however. On her evenings off, she would ask him to watch movies with her or go on long walks around the compound’s spacious grounds.

He found himself talking more than ever, telling her things he had never told another living soul. And he liked to think she found a confidant in him too. Bulma might be a brilliant, beautiful alpha, but beneath the surface dwelt a woman few had seen or understood. 

She still kissed him sometimes before saying goodnight. Sweet, soft kisses, like a connoisseur savoring a glass of fine wine. Then, with the taste of her kiss lingering on his tongue, he would slip into some of the most restful slumbers of his life. 

“Where’d you go?” 

Vegeta blinks several times, shaking off his reverie at the sound of Alpha’s voice. She gives him a sly smile, and he realizes she most likely knows what he was just daydreaming about. It should be humiliating, but now that the tech has taken his samples to the lab, leaving them alone in the small exam room, all he wants to do is kiss her. If she knows that, so much the better. His patience is wearing thin. 

“I have a surprise for you,” she says, still wearing that sly smile. She steps closer to the exam table, not stopping until his spread thighs are bracketing her hips. Her fingertips trace the stubble on his jaw, and he can’t help but lean into her touch. 

“A surprise?”

“Mhmm,” she responds. For a moment, Vegeta thinks she’ll lean in and kiss him, but instead she steps away, tugging at his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

He slides down from the table and follows her without question, his pulse racing faster with each hallway they traverse, getting closer and closer to the side of the compound that houses their bedrooms. 

This must be it, he thinks. A tight knot of anticipation and nerves lodges itself in his throat. As much as he wants... _everything_ with her, he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s spent so much of his life avoiding and resenting alphas that he isn’t entirely sure how to do the opposite. What if, in his ignorance, he somehow displeases her? The omega inside him recoils in horror at the thought. If he displeases her, she might leave him, and somehow, after a lifetime alone and content to be so, this feels like it would be the end of his world. 

His anxiety ratchets up tenfold when they come to a stop in front of his bedroom door. She swings it open, and his stomach drops. 

There, in the middle of the floor, sit two shiny chrome suitcases. 

“Surprise!” Bulma says behind him. “My mother packed your things while you were doing your final lab work.”

Vegeta stares at the expensive-looking luggage in confusion. She’d packed his things? Why?

Granted, nothing in either of those suitcases is technically his. The grocery bag of tattered clothes he came with had gradually disappeared and new ones in plush materials that fit too perfectly to have not been tailored to his measurements had appeared in their place.

Bulma pulls a pair of car keys out of her pocket, jangling them in front of his face. For a horrible moment he thinks they might be his car keys and that she is about to tell him to get lost. He is only mildly comforted to see a fancy remote with a gleaming silver emblem that definitely doesn't belong to his old junker hanging from the ring.

“Grab those and follow me.” She nods towards the suitcases. “We’re going for a drive.”

Vegeta swallows down his trepidation and does as she says, wheeling his luggate behind him as she leads him out the front door. One of her family’s many obscenely expensive and impractical sports cars is parked out front, waiting for them. There’s barely enough room in the trunk for both his suitcases. 

As they merge onto the highway, Vegeta glances over at Bulma in confusion as she drives. She can’t seem to stop smiling and is almost bouncing in her seat. Her sweet scent is sharpened with anticipation. Is she so eager to be rid of him? 

“Where are we going?” he asks. The gruffness of his tone doesn’t dampen her excitement one bit. 

“It’s a surprise,” she answers with a wink. “We’re almost there.”

Vegeta grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. “I hate surprises,” he grumbles.

Bulma just laughs and announces, “We’re here!” as they roll to a stop in front of a multi-story apartment building. 

Before Vegeta has time to process where they are, a uniformed doorman is opening his door, and another is getting his luggage out of the trunk. Bulma gracefully thanks the one who opened her door and gives him a generous wad of cash. 

Before he knows it, Vegeta is being ushered into a gleaming elevator with mirrored walls and gold trim. Bulma flashes him that conspiratorial grin again before leaning in and pressing the button at the very top marked with the letters “PH” instead of a number. 

Vegeta isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for the elevator doors to open directly into the open living area of a penthouse apartment. The entire wall directly across is lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering an unobstructed view of the East City skyline. The decor is minimalistic but stylish, all clean lines and neutral colors. Tastefully opulent. 

Somehow, his suitcases that aren’t really his are already there, lined up neatly against the wall. 

“Well, what do you think?” Bulma steps out into the center of the massive room, waving her arms like a gameshow host presenting a prize. 

“Nice,” is all Vegeta can manage as he steps cautiously into the open space. 

“It’s yours,” Bulma announces proudly, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. “The car is yours too, so I hope you liked it. We can always get you a different one. C’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“Wait.” Vegeta takes several steps back, tugging away the hand she’d tried to grab. 

Bulma’s face falls a little, and the hurt and anger coiling inside him reaches a fever pitch. He’s the one being dumped here in this strange place, and _she_ has the audacity to look hurt?

“Bulma, what is this?” he asks, still holding himself just out of her reach.

He watches as her mouth opens and closes several times, confusion and alarm seeping into her scent and her expression. 

“It’s...I just wanted…”

“If you changed your mind, you could have just said so,” he interrupts, leaning into the anger to stop his eyes from filling with tears. “I took care of myself before, and I can do it again. I don’t need your charity.”

“Ch-changed my mind?” she stammers. “What the hell are you talking about, Vegeta?”

“Forget it.” He turns away from her before she can see the tears that are threatening to obscure his vision, lunging for the elevator button. If she was going to pretend nothing had ever happened between them, he wasn’t going to stand there and be further humiliated. 

Bulma speaks in a rush behind him as he waits impatiently for the elevator to make its way back up to their floor.

“We can sell this place and figure something else out, if you want. Or _you_ can sell it. It’s in your name.”

Why was the blasted elevator taking so long? He leans his forehead against the cool steel of the door and wills it to move faster. With every passing second he is coming closer to begging for her not to send him away. 

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you having no place to live,” she continues, twisting the knife further between his ribs. “Alphas take care of omegas.”

He rounds on her just as the elevator doors slide open. “I don’t need an alpha to take care of me.”

“I know,” she agrees, approaching him slowly, like one would a frightened animal. “I just...I wanted you to choose me because you wanted to, not because you didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

That gives Vegeta pause. He feels a dangerous sprig of hope begin to bloom inside his chest. He wants to run to her, to tell her that he _does_ choose her, but there’s a single, lingering bit of fear that keeps him rooted where he is. 

“And if you did choose me...” she continues, now close enough to reach out and touch him if she wanted too. The elevator doors slide closed again. “I thought it might be nice for us to have a little space to ourselves.”

Vegeta looks down at the shiny marble tile at their feet. He has been an idiot; he realizes that now. But it would certainly make more sense for her to drop him off somewhere, to free herself from him and all of his baggage. He isn’t a good omega. He’s hardly even a good man. It doesn’t make any sense for this alpha, with the world at her feet, to want to provide for him and ask him to choose her. 

But then he remembers that night in her bedroom, the sadness in her eyes when she’d confessed to feeling lacking as an alpha. He had been baffled then, as he still is, by the idea that Bulma Briefs could be seen as, in any way, lacking. The things the world views as making her an atypical alpha actually make her perfect for him. So, maybe -- just maybe -- he can be what she needs too. 

She must sense the moment the urge to flee leaves him. Her arms slip around his middle, crossing over his belly as she presses her soft front to his back. Her mouth is level with the back of his neck like this, so he feels her breath fan across his mating gland before her lips touch down. 

Her kiss floods his system with the sweetest sense of peace, and, suddenly, the world feels right.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, friends. Sorry for the long wait! I'll be honest, this chapter didn't get a lot of editing. I wanted to go ahead and post it since it's been so long, but I'm also trying to put more time towards writing original stuff. Hopefully it's at least readable and an acceptable happily ever after for Omega!Vegeta, who I simply adored writing. Thanks for sticking with me on this! I hope you enjoy this final chapter. :)
> 
> Also, shout out to PearlsValMel for letting me use her as a sounding board while I figured out how to write in this new (to me) universe. Without that, I don't know that I would have had the confidence to post this story.

He follows her up the artfully curved staircase, his fingers intertwined with hers.

Something in her scent has shifted since their argument. It’s calmer now, sweeter. He inhales in deep pulls, wanting to drink it all in. His head spins a little in a pleasant way. Somewhere in the back of his mind he feels like he should be nervous as hell right now, but he just can’t seem to locate the feeling. 

He’s read about this phenomenon. His alpha is producing a heady cocktail of pheromones specially designed to make him pliant, docile --in preparation to mate.

It used to make him furious, the idea that an alpha could affect him this way. Biology was cruel, terrifying, and unfair. He’d hated it all his life, what he was. What it made him vulnerable to. 

There is a sweet relief in surrendering to it now, with someone he feels safe with. An alpha who he trusts to care for him in all the ways he’s tried not to want. Someone who’s never forced him into anything, who’s given him every opportunity to back away if that’s what he wanted. It only makes him want to get closer. 

Little pinpricks of heat race along his skin and down his spine, making him restless. He watches the sway of Bulma’s hips as she mounts the stairs, and his mind fixates on a single, all-consuming need. _Knot _.__

__Sweat begins to bead on his brow. With his last remaining shred of logic, he acknowledges that he’s headed for a breakthrough heat. It’s impossible -- or it should be -- with the state-of-the-art drugs Bulma’s made for him. But there’s no mistaking the deep, almost painful, ache at his center. It’s happening, and fast._ _

__Bulma picks up the pace toward the top of the stairs, tugging him along behind her. Her scent shifts again, and he instinctively knows the new muskiness means her rut is getting close. His mouth waters. Wherever she’s taking him feels impossibly far away._ _

__They mount the final step, and Vegeta feels his control shatter. He needs her. Now. Needs her skin and her knot and that beautiful, intoxicating scent on his tongue. Needs it everywhere, really. Marking him. Making him hers._ _

__He catches her around the waist before she can go any further, spinning her easily to face him. She backs up as he pushes forward until her back thuds against the wall._ _

__His mouth finds the curve of her neck, searching for the fragrant skin of her gland. He feels the vibration of her sigh against his lips when he drags the flat of his tongue over it._ _

__One of her hands winds its way into his hair, holding him in place, while the other trails down his body to cup his almost painful erection through his jeans. The growl he emits is barely human._ _

__His fingers fumble at her waistband, tugging the button fly apart. Her scent swirls in the air around them. He feels drunk on it, completely lost to all thought or reason, his focus solely on this one, all-consuming need._ _

__His fingers tremble as they slip inside the open denim, brushing against lace. He looks to his alpha for permission before going further, and she responds with a hurried nod before taking his lips in a bruising kiss._ _

__The lace is easily shoved aside. His fingertips brush against soft, warm, and wet._ _

__Their twin groans are muffled around each other’s lips as Bulma widens her stance to allow him to slide deeper. It takes him only a few moments to find her opening and slip one finger inside._ _

__All the pent-up tension floods out of his body when he feels it -- that little ring of puckered skin two knuckles deep inside her. Her knot._ _

__Vegeta sighs, letting his forehead rest against hers as he curls his finger, then pulls back carefully to slide in a second. He strokes the little puckered spot gently, feeling it begin to swell and pulse beneath his fingertips, all the urgency he’d felt moments before gone, no matter how his aching cock might protest. This is what he needed, what he craved._ _

__“Oh, fuck,” Bulma groans, moving her hips against his hand as his movements gradually become more confident. Where he felt more relaxed, she was growing nearly frantic, clawing at his arms and shoulders in a way that will certainly leave marks._ _

__Good, he thinks. He’ll wear his alpha’s marks proudly._ _

__“Vegeta…” she gasps, and he feels the inside of her swell further, almost enough to grip his fingers. Her voice is strained, breathy. “Vegeta, wait. I’ll cum if you keep doing that, and then we’ll have to wait for my knot to go back down.”_ _

__He growls at the thought of her cuming, of her _knotting _, with any part of him inside her, but he cannot disobey Alpha. Not in his current state.___ _

____He reluctantly withdraws his hand from her soft heat, lifting his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. His knees nearly buckle as her taste blossoms on his tongue._ _ _ _

____“Follow me,” she commands, tugging him down the hallway with a hand fisted in his t-shirt._ _ _ _

____Fortunately, they don’t have far to go before she nudges open a door and they stumble into a spacious master bedroom._ _ _ _

____Vegeta glances around just long enough to take in the king-sized bed that serves as the focal point of the room. It’s covered in a slate gray duvet and mounded with pillows. A faux-fur throw blanket is draped over one corner invitingly. Nest, his instincts scream: yet another undeniable sign that his heat is nearly upon him._ _ _ _

____“Vegeta,” Bulma says, and his gaze darts back to her face. Her eyes are wide and wild, pupils blown. “I love you, you know.”_ _ _ _

____It isn't at all what he had expected her to say, and the quiet words hit him like a punch to the gut. Nobody has ever said those words to him. Well, his parents probably had, but he’d been too young when they died to remember. It wasn’t something he thought about much, love. Was that what he felt whenever he thought of Bulma? This tight, fluttery feeling inside his chest?_ _ _ _

____Bulma looks uncharacteristically vulnerable, smiling softly at him as she watches him process her words. He wants to say them back, but somehow, even “I love you” doesn’t feel big enough to encompass everything she makes him feel._ _ _ _

____His hands shake as they rise to cradle her face. He strokes her cheeks reverently, willing her to understand what he doesn’t have the words to say._ _ _ _

____“I know…” he half-whispers, letting his eyes flit over her face once more before ducking his head to capture her lips with his._ _ _ _

____It isn’t, perhaps, what he is “supposed” to say, but it feels more significant, somehow. That he believes her. That he feels worthy._ _ _ _

____He can smell a warmth and contentment creeping into her scent, and he’s glad. His alpha is pleased with him. All's right with the world._ _ _ _

____They stumble blindly toward the bed, pausing between kisses to shed layers of clothing. Bulma’s seen all of him before, but the way she looks at him now is different. There’s a proud and possessive gleam in her eyes that makes his heart race._ _ _ _

____“You’re perfect,” she whispers trailing her hands down the finely honed muscles of his abdomen. He huffs a little, sceptical. It seems like a ridiculous thing for anyone to think with her standing there in contrast._ _ _ _

____Now down to only her lacy bra and panties, she looks more tempting than he’d known a person could look. All soft curves, long, toned limbs, and miles of smooth, porcelain skin. She’s the perfect one. His perfect alpha._ _ _ _

____His fingers tremble as he traces the shape of her waist and hips, in awe that someone so beautiful belongs to him. He makes sure the glands at his wrists brush against her skin, marking her with his scent. It isn’t necessary, he knows. Soon, his scent will be permanently mingled with hers, but his impending heat is making him feel edgy and possessive. He won’t be able to wait much longer._ _ _ _

____Sensing his needs, Bulma lifts her own wrist to his neck, pressing it to his mating gland. Calm floods his system, and he sighs happily, resting his forehead against hers._ _ _ _

____A moment later, a wave of heat washes over him, followed by a sharp cramp low in his abdomen. His heat has begun in earnest._ _ _ _

____Bulma shushes him gently when he lets out a plaintive groan, reaching down to stroke his aching cock with her soft little hands. He’s producing so much slick that her hands glide easily along his length. It feels wonderful, but his body demands more._ _ _ _

____Vegeta loops his arms around her waist, tugging her close. He needs to feel every inch of her skin pressing tight against his. He fumbles with her bra until she takes pity on him, reaching behind her to unhook it. The straps slide down her arms, and she tosses it aside, reaching down to shove down her panties for good measure._ _ _ _

____Her pink nipples harden under his gaze, begging to be licked. His eyes dart between them and the neatly-trimmed thatch of blue curls between her thighs, trying desperately to take in all of her at once._ _ _ _

____The scent of her arousal grows thicker, her desperation rising to match his own._ _ _ _

____Alpha desires you, his inner voice preens as another wave of heat crashes down on him._ _ _ _

____Bulma’s hands are gentle as they stroke him through it, her eyes searching the depths of his. “Tell me what you need, Omega.”_ _ _ _

____She knows. Of course, she does. She wants to hear him say it, and he wants nothing more than to please her._ _ _ _

____“You, Alpha. Please.”_ _ _ _

____“Do you need to nest first?” she asks gently, and Vegeta fights the impulse for a useless moment before nodding his head._ _ _ _

____“Go ahead,” she encourages. “It’s okay.”_ _ _ _

____After only a moment’s hesitation, he releases her waist and climbs onto the spacious bed. He follows his instincts, making quick work of tossing most of the pillows to the outside of the bed and throwing back the duvet. He spreads out the soft, faux-fur blanket before turning back to face his alpha, searching her face for signs of approval._ _ _ _

____“Good,” Bulma sighs, looking him over as he waits on his knees in the middle of his handiwork. “It’s good.”_ _ _ _

____She’s almost beyond words now, but there aren’t many more to be said. She crawls to him until she can straddle his lap, arms winding around his shoulders._ _ _ _

____They shift until she can slide down onto him, inch by inch welcoming him into her tight heat. Vegeta groans, eyes rolling back as he fights the urge to thrust upward. It’s a tight fit, her knot already beginning to swell from his attention earlier. Just the thought of it forces him to grit his teeth against the inevitable eruption of pleasure building inside him. He doesn’t want this to be over yet, not until he’s made her knot around him, trapping him where he most wants to be._ _ _ _

____When, at last, he’s fully sheathed inside her, Bulma reaches for his hand, guiding his fingers to the place just above where they’re joined. Their eyes meet, and he understands what she wants without a word being spoken. They’ll have all the time in the world to go slow, to savor one another, once they’re mated. For now, she just needs to make that happen._ _ _ _

____So he strokes her gently, then with more confidence as her sighs and moans spur him on. Her hips begin to roll against his, as he thrusts up to meet her. Her eyes stay locked on his, and before long, he feels her grow tighter around him. It becomes more and more difficult, and then impossible, to thrust as she locks him firmly inside.  
He’s never felt glad to be an omega until this moment, but, now, he wouldn’t change a thing. It’s sheer perfection, her stuffed full of his cock and his cum, crying out in pleasure as her inner walls quiver around him. He was made for her, for this, and when, at last, she tugs his head down and parts her lips over his gland, he feels a single tear slip free and trickle down his cheek. _ _ _ _

____He’s finally home._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Epilogue_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Vegeta groans as he hears footsteps in the hallway outside his bedroom, tugging the sheet up over his head. It was Saturday, damn it. Didn’t alphas ever sleep?_ _ _ _

____If someone had told him years ago that he would end up living with not one, but three alphas he would have laughed in their face. But here he was, surrounded. His home reeked of alpha pheromones. In fact, he didn’t own a single item that wasn’t drenched in alpha, yet he couldn’t have been happier._ _ _ _

____Well, maybe if they let him sleep in every now and then._ _ _ _

____“Good morning, Daddy!”_ _ _ _

____He grunts as he’s suddenly assaulted by eighty pounds of lanky twelve-year-old girl._ _ _ _

____“Daddy, pleeeeeeease! I made pancakes.”_ _ _ _

____“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, removing the sheet from his face before pulling a squirming, giggling Bulla into his arms. She is growing up so fast, already showing signs of distancing herself from him, asserting her fierce alpha independence. These moments were growing increasingly rare and precious. He had to savor every one._ _ _ _

____“Where’s your mother?”_ _ _ _

____“She’s helping Trunks with his college applications,” she answers, and Vegeta feels a small pang of something like sorrow pierce his heart. It didn’t seem possible that their son would be moving out soon, starting college. Eighteen years wasn’t nearly as long as it sounded._ _ _ _

____He brushes off the wave of emotion and lets Bulla tug him out of bed. In the kitchen, the scent of breakfast and his mate greets him, and suddenly, everything is right with the world._ _ _ _

____He kisses Bulma and serves himself a plate of Bulla’s pancakes before sitting down to breakfast with the three alphas who own his heart. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.____

THE END


End file.
